Low
by ForsakenKalika
Summary: Senior year was supposed to be easy, but then, nothing ever is. An AU GaaSaku. Cussing, later citrus, drug abuse, general teenage angst. Read at your own risk.
1. Ch 1 Shoulda Stayed Home

So, it's been a while since I've done anything aside from KakaSaku, but I'm giving this a try.

This is based on my own experiences from high school, and while a lot of it seems far-fetched, trust me, stuff like this did happen. This is set a few years ago, 2000-2001 to be exact, and that's done for a few reasons, to be revealed later on.

Review if you like this, because that's the only way it won't be abandoned. I have anon reviews enabled for a reason.

Oh- and this is being written from my BlackBerry, so sorry if the formatting is off.

**2-12-10**: I am reposting the chapters I have done so far, updated and whatnot. I like them, but upon further review, they could be a ton better. As a side note, I'm super happy. I just quit my job and will have a week off before starting my new one.

I do not own Naruto. The characters herein are, for the most part, created by Masashi Kishimoto. I'm just borrowing them for a bit.

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An alarm blared, signifying the beginning of a brand new day. A slender hand reached out from beneath a bundle of ratty blankets, worn from years of use, to delay said beginning for another fifteen minutes.

"Sakura!" An older woman, her peach hair short and permed, poked her head through the curtain used as a door. "Get up! It's your first day. Don't you want to make a better impression?" Her face was pinched in frustration as she regarded the room. It was small, roughly the size of an office, with blue and grey vinyl paneled walls. Clothes littered the floor, and whole magazine spreads decorated the walls. Bands like Orgy and Korn posed for Alternative Press, and a Ouija board was screwed into the paneling. Upon the white ceiling, a pentacle was scrawled, along with the magickal symbols for Goddess and Great Horned God.

Mitsu's nose crinkled in disgust, taking in the large chalkboard directly across from her. Rather than use chalk to draw upon it, Sakura had taken to using oil pastels and chalk pens to draw gruesome pictures and write obscene and offensive song lyrics. The current 'du jour' was a song named "The Reflecting God," the lyrics mirrored by bleeding roses binding a fallen angel to an altar, a succubus at the ready to plunge a dagger into its' heart.

'At least they're clothed this time,' Mitsu thought, wry and defeated.

"Is that a rhetorical question?" Came the response from beneath the mountain of covers. Mitsu's attention snapped back to the girl beneath the blankets, and she flopped her hands around in ire.

"Ugh! Fine! Be the same miserable girl you have been! You know, Dr. Kona said you should try to be less negative. I don't know why..." Sakura tuned out the ranting of her mother as she rolled out of bed and onto the floor with a distinct thud.

Brushing by her mother, she turned an immediate right into the bathroom, closing the door on the woman. From the other side of the door, she could hear her mother stomping off. "You're so goddamned negative! Forget getting a ride to school today, you can walk."

"Great," Sakura murmured. She stared at her face critically, trying to see if she had changed at all. Nope. Still had a huge forehead. She brushed her teeth, mindful of the cavity forming in the back. Just another thing for her mother to ignore. Sighing, she turned on the shower and stepped in.

Halfway through conditioning, her mother pounded on the door. "We're gonna be late! Hurry it up!"

"Oh, my dear, manic depressed mother, I thought I was walking," she retorted quietly. It didn't matter, her mother still heard.

"Now you are!" With that, she pounded the door one last time before storming to the back door. "And clean your fucking room!" Was heard before the back door slammed and her mother started the car.

As Sakura dressed, she mused to herself, "At least there are no 'first day' pictures. Upside? Hell yeah."

She grabbed her drab green Jansport bag, threw on her No Boundaries sneakers and Army issue all-weather jacket, and plodded out the door.

As she walked, her knock-off Discman played through Stabbing Westward's "Darkest Days" album, and she smoked a cigarette. She hung a left at the end of her street, turning a sharp right. She began to think to herself, thoughts mirroring the songs in her ears.

These days, it was becoming easier to pretend nothing was wrong. After being a consistent part of the Drama Department for the past three years, Sakura had grown accustomed to playing parts. So much so, she lost track of herself when productions came around. It was easy to be someone else, and she relished in the opportunity to ignore the gnawing feeling in her stomach.

But, like clockwork, as soon as the cast party ended on the final night, and she passed out drunk on achievement and Long Island Iced Teas, she was herself again. Hollow and wanting, she was left, until a one-act came along to give her another personality.

Her psychiatrist, if one could call her that, had told her to try and become the person she had always wanted to be. That when she played the role of a confident, happy person, it would simply become a reality. That the voice that often spoke back to her would silence itself due to a lack of unsavory circumstances.

'Should I really try to make a new start for myself? Would it matter? What would Naruto say? Sasuke? Would they be supportive?'

By the time she made it to school fifteen minutes later, she was in a right fine mood. Her steps slowed as she approached the impressive brick building. Two stories tall with a basement on one half of the building, the building was capable of housing 1500 students and a full faculty. The school had been built in 1952 and had been renovated repeatedly over the past 38 years, the result being two cafeterias, two gymnasiums, a large auditorium, and over forty classrooms.

Sakura walked into the back doors by the parking lot and wandered through the throng of students. The smell of floor cleaner and wax intermingled with rubber as shoes were scuffed. She could tell which ones were freshmen by the dazed look in their eyes as they gazed around the large lobby. She too looked around, trying to find signs of this year differing from the previous four.

**'Nope, same old trophy cases filled with relics of the heroes long past. Same vending machine filled with half-stale snack foods.'** Sakura shook her head to clear the voice she was sure she wasn't supposed to hear. **'You can't get rid of me, dumbass. I'm you.'**

'Shut up,' Sakura mentally retorted back. She rubbed her temples trying to will away the voice, and after a moment of concentration, it worked.

Walking into the new cafeteria, she quickly found her friends. "Yo! Sa-ku-ra!" Naruto yelled, when she neared. He crushed her in a bear hug, grasping the air from her lungs.

"Dumbass, she's right there. You don't have to yell." The raven haired teen chastized. "Besides, we saw her last weekend."

Sakura laughed as Naruto twirled her around, and finally set her down. "But that was so long ago," he pouted.

"It was three days ago," Sakura corrected, while pulling money out for breakfast.

"See? Sakura gets it!" She heard Naruto comment as she walked around the corner to the register. She stood in front of the displays, wondering what to get. 'Hmm... poptart or breakfast burrito?'

"I'd get the poptart, hun. The burritos might walk off your plate this morning." Sakura's head snapped up.

"Kathy!! How's my favorite food service minion?" She grabbed a cherry frosted tart and apple and walked to the register.

"You can't just call me a lunchlady?" The woman laughed, and rang up the items. "I'm doing okay. Had the gallbladder op in July. Ninety-seven cents. So yeah, just takin' it easy. How was your summer?"

Sakura handed the brown haired woman her dollar bill and bit her apple. "Good, went to my aunt's house and babysat. Just got back a week ago. So you finally had the operation? Obviously everything went smoo-"

"How much is this?" A deep voice cut into their conversation. Both Sakura and Kathy turned abruptly, chagrined at having been chatting it up like two old biddies. A tall redheaded boy stood closely behind Sakura in the line. Instinctively, she stepped closer to the dividing half-wall separating the food line from the seating area, and allowed him more space. His aqua eyes flickered toward her in a calculating manner, as if weighing her for market.

"Eighty-seven cents, dear. I haven't seen you here before. Are you new?" Kathy asked the boy politely. She typically knew every student that chose her cafeteria over the newly added eating space next door.

"Obviously if you haven't seen me, then I would be new," the boy commented harshly, his blood red hair flicking into his eyes as he twitched with annoyance. He all but threw exact change at the woman, and Sakura could no longer hold her tongue.

"Hey, just because you're new doesn't mean you can treat people like that. She was just trying to be welcoming!" The roseate defended. She no sooner spoke the words than wished she could take them back. As the boy regarded her once more, he stepped closer, nose to nose, his aqua eyes meeting her own veridian gaze.

"Because you don't know me, I'll let that slide. Next time, think before you speak, Pinky." That said, he spun and walked into the lobby from whence he came. The bell rang for homeroom as he did, and Sakura scrambled to collect her bag. Throwing a hasty farewell to the lunchlady, she navigated the students to arrive at the History hall two minutes later.

Homeroom with Mr. Morino. She could hardly contain her joy. Sakura promised herself she'd go for the Shakespearian Society homeroom as soon as tryouts were announced. She was a shoe-in, having performed in a number of productions, but she had to at least go through the motions just to keep everything fair.

Mr. Morino, a former Marine, silenced everyone with a hard look before assigning lockers. Even if she switched homerooms, this would be her locker for the rest of the year. '926,' she thought, as she sought the line of lockers. She had luckily put her deposit down on her combination lock for both her gym and standard lockers, so she would not have to memorize a new combination every year.

Placing her things in, she looked around her at the other seniors. Next to her would be some well-known football player, of course, and a daddy's girl on the other side. Sakura spied Tenten kiddie corner to her across the hall. The bun-haired brunette had been placed next to her longtime crush. Sakura caught her eye and shot her a thumbs up. Tenten grinned before turning back to Neji Hyuuga, but as she caught Sakura's eye one last time, the pinkette feigned swooning before rushing back into homeroom.

The only good thing about her locker location was it's strategic position next to the side entrance that had never locked quite right. 'Perfect for study hall signouts.'

Morning announcements came and went. The principle, Mr. Umino, was new and had been sure to greet the students. He added, 'If you ever need a shoulder to lean on or an ear to listen, I'm here,' to which Kiba Inuzuka commented, of course.

"I'd be wary of what other body parts he has for auction, there. Ino, you gonna take him up on his offer?" The blonde in question flipped Kiba off and shook her loose hair around her shoulders.

"Don't be a pig!" She snapped.

"Pot calling kettle black," Kiba shot back.

"Ugh! It's just a name, Kiba! Get over it!"

Mr. Morino slammed his hands on Ino's desk, ending the argument abruptly. "Sorry, Mr. Morino," they both mumbled.

The bell rang, and everyone filed out, attempting a four minute lolligag to first period. Unfortunately for Sakura, her first class was just upstairs, in the English hall, so no amount of zombie-like shuffling could save her.

The first thing Sakura noticed about the room was the change in where the desk had been. If one the could be said about Hatake Kakashi, it was that he was methodical. So when Sakura wandered in a full minute before the bell, she fixated on the shift from the last three years.

His desk, which had been at the front of the room, had been replaced by a table from the Art rooms, and moved to the back of the room. A dressing screen and portable wardrobe cart took up space in the opposite back corner, and she could see the corner of one of the larger tackle boxes of makeup. The same four posters that had previously been on the wall were accompanied by those of Anthony Hopkins portraying Hannibal Lecter, and Sir Lawrence Olivier as Hamlet.

"Sakura? You're blocking the door." She snapped to and moved quickly to an empty seat. Turning to face the masked man, she took in his visage.

"So, what's up, Hatake? You finally get a woman who doesn't mind porn?"

"Romantic literature, and I don't see how it's any of your business." Came his shrewd reply.

"Yeah, Sakura, you know how Anko gets when she's spoken about behind her back," Sasuke joined the conversation after coming through the door. The two high-fived as Kakashi gave them a withering look.

"I am never telling you two anything ever again."

Sakura snorted. "Come off it, Hatake, you know you love it." He opened his mouth to reply, but some of the tardier students filled the room, and the bell rang.

The class flew quickly, and Sakura made a note in her planner to murder Kakashi in his sleep for the essay due the next day. As she left the room, she muttered simply, "I have one more class with you, and I know where you live."

He chuckled and ruffled her hair before unceremoniously shoving her out the door.

"I'll see you fourth period, Sakura."

She glowered and hung a left, taking her downstairs almost directly to her locker. Sakura put her things away, grabbing another couple of notebooks, before slamming her locker door. Turning to begin the trek to Biology, she ran face-first into something solid.

"Ow! What the hell?! Watch where you're going, asshole!" She exclaimed, rubbing her head.

"What did I tell you, Pinky?" The voice that replied froze her in her tracks.

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Here is the list of authority figures, just in case you wondered. Sakura is associated with them, one way or another, and the ones she has classes with have their class periods next to them.

Tsunade - mayor

Shizune - health (8th)

Kakashi - AP English, theatre (1st and 4th)

Asuma - AP Economics/ Gov't (7th)

Kurenai - Maths (3rd)

Ibiki - World History

Sandaime - Language (5th)

Orochimaru - Biology (2nd)

Kabuto - AP Chemistry

Jiraiya - Studio Art

Maito Gai and Mitarashi Anko - gym (8th)


	2. Ch 2 Marcel Marceau

This is for Twisted Musalih, for being my first reviewer. You'll notice the next couple of chapters are kind of light-hearted. There is a reason for that, trust me. If you know anything about psychology and psychiatry, you'll see patterned behavior on Sakura's part.

Oh, and I apologize for any formatting problems. I am writing this from my DoomBerry, so I lack proper editing functions. Betas are nice. PM me if interested.

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. The characters contained herein are, for the most part, the brainbabies of Masashi Kishimoto. But I would really over a Gaara/Kakashi sandwich *nosebleed*

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His voice was cold, and shook Sakura to her core. She could hear his amusement and annoyance, as if it were a living thing. Backing up slightly, still rubbing her head, she looked him in the eyes. His eyes were a hard jade, his mouth a thin slash against his otherwise flawless skin.

**'Don't let him push you around!'** Inner Sakura yelled, pushing up her sleeves. **'Why I oughta...'** She muttered in Sakura's ear as she pulled down her bowler cap.

Sakura shook her head to rid herself of her mental companion and flicked a glance at the redhead from under her eyelashes. Seeing his waning impatience, she grinned cheekily. "Don't eat yellow snow?"

Sakura could count on one hand the amount of times she had been against a wall. Her first kiss, the first cigarette, the day her mother grabbed her by the throat. Primarily due to the last experience, she should have seen it coming. Before he even moved, the boy's shoulders seemed to bunch and coil. Then, his entire upper body moved serpent-fast as he reached out and grabbed her shoulders. She yelped out as he slammed her back against the cold lockers.

"You're a real smartass, Pinky." He whispered, nose to nose. Involuntarily, her eyes flicked to his lips and back to his eyes.

**'Nice sitch you're in, girlie,'** her Id chastized. She was willing to bet his closeness was an intimidation technique. Her Ego mentally beat the inner child down (with a Louisville Slugger), and a slow smirk crossed her face. Moving her head to whisper in his ear, she felt him tense at the proximity.

"Well, Red, it's better than being a dumbass." She brought her foot down on top of his and darted out from between his arms as he grabbed his injured foot.

If looks could kill, she would be one fried female. She stood dumbly, watching his jaw clench and unclench as he glared. Before he could take a step toward her, Sakura spun and fled to her next class, heart pounding in her ears.

Adrenaline was a funny thing. It could make a person lift cars to save lives, empower them to stand up to (sexy) threatening redheads, and forget that her next class was taught by a fruitcake. When she finally remembered she had Biology with Orochimaru, she had already stumbled through the door from her failed attempt at a backpedal. Stupid non-slip shoes!

Fourteen pairs of eyes stared at her as if she had grown a second head, and she simply laughed and scratched her head awkwardly.

Making her was to the large lab tables by the window, Sakura sat on a stool and proceeded to take out her notebook. Orochimaru was known for more than his questionable extracurricular activities, being an avid fan of giving copious amounts of notes that would show up on no state exam in the history of state exams. Fire Country may be thorough in their testing, but Orochimaru was more so in his teaching.

Sakura absently played with the spigot of the small sink near her, before receiving a glare from the teacher. Well, shit. She switched her attentions to something more interesting; the nozzle for the built-in bunsen burners.

As she fiddled, wondering why hers was sticking so adamently, she failed to notice the presence in the door. It was surprising, really, due to the venom in his glare.

"Gaara, please sit down," Orochimaru hissed impatiently.

**'Really? Does he have to hiss everything? Freak.'** Inner Sakura was apparently feeling spiteful today. In the space of time it took for the bell to finally ring, two things happened. One, a decidedly angry person sat next to Sakura. And two, she realized who it was.

"Aww, what the hell?" She whined. Her fist pounded the desk, and she faced toward the sky. Eyes pleading, she bemoaned his person. "Who have I hexed for this shit?"

"Haruno!" Orochimaru scolded. She absently waved him off in her daze of self-pity.

Finally turning to face him, angry blush red on her cheeks, she asked, "So, what? Are you, like, stalking me now?" He said nothing, just continued to glare at her. It made her nervous, and strangely empowered. She continued on, "I've always wanted my own stalker. Some kids want a puppy, I want someone to follow me with undefined intent." She was babbling, she knew.

Still, he said nothing. As his silence continued, and Orochimaru began his lesson, Sakura dug into her bag for the Sharpie she always had. Turning back to him, she grinned wickedly. "And you're quiet. Awesome. It's like having my own mime." His nonexistant eyebrow raised quizzically. "Can I draw on your face?"

After a moment of just staring at eachother, the stoic boy spoke. "Aren't you scared of me?" She snorted and began copying the notes on the board.

"Why would I be scared of a mime?" Turning to face him once again, she clarified. "I mean, what's the worst that could happen? You put me in an invisible box?" Against his will, he snorted in amusement and took down his own notes.

Writing on the margin closest to her, he penned, 'You're weird.'

He eyed her sideways, and watched as she wrote in her neat script, 'Says the mime.'

Inner Sakura pumped her fist in the air in triumph at Outer Sakura's diffusion of the precarious situation. A happy little dance ensued until she promptly facepalmed as Outer Sakura wrote one more thing in the margin of her own notebook.

'So... can I call you Marceau?' Gaara's almost benign green gaze hardened and the grip on his pen tightened.

**************

AN- Marcel Marceau is a famous mime. The first bit if chapters will be short as I'm describing all her initial run-ins with Gaara on the first day.


	3. Ch 3 Pierrot, the Clown

STUPID FF! I had chapter two done, and FF wouldn't let me upload. So I said 'screw it' and decided to just write chapter 3. Sorry for the shortness, but it's with purpose. I hope those of you who read the end of chapter two understand.

Disclaimer: I don't own this shizno. Or the word shizno. But I have fun borrowing the characters for my own nefarious works.

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Biology was blessedly over, and for that, Sakura was glad. She had Maths next, with Kurenai, and was looking forward to being away from glaring redheads for a while.

Exiting the lab room, Sakura took a right to the true Science hall, and took another right at the end of that, to go downstairs. As she walked into the classroom, she nodded to Shino Aburame and Hinata Hyuuga, sitting close to one another. She walked up to the seat in front of Hinata and sat, already spun around and listening intently to the conversation.

"And then she stomped on his foot! It's almost like she was possessed by... By... By earwigs from beyond the stars!" Upon seeing the candy haired girl, Hinata addressed her. "You're not a pod person, are you?" The look of corncern and horror was just too much for Sakura to bear. The way the indigo tressed girl worried her lip combined with the flighty way her lavender eyes flicked around belied her paranoia.

"Honestly, Hinata, how would you know? I mean, I could tell you anything, and I could just be lying." Sakura stifled a chuckle as Hinata spun back to Shino and pointed a finger in his face.

"I told you! And you didn't believe me!" Shino rolled his eyes while Hinata railed on. He turned to Sakura, and she innocently held up her hands, palms out.

"Dude, she shouldn't talk about people behind their backs," Sakura informed the quiet male. He shook his head, his brown-black hair falling over his Transitions glasses.

"Yes, but you don't tell someone who habitually takes mushrooms that aliens do exist, and you could, in fact, be one. She has enough to deal with just knowing that she could have seen Primus one last time before the broke up."

Hinata's cry of "Don't remind me!" had Ms. Yuuhi glaring sharply at them, before she stood to begin class.

By the end of third period, Sakura was even more uplifted to be out of Maths and on her way to Theatre. 'So many numbers...' She thought. She was sure she was slowly becoming Borg and thinking in Binary from the amount of numbers Ms. Yuuhi had flippantly tossed her way.

In her excitement to get to Theatre class, she nearly hurdled people in the Art hall, and took the stairs to the special education wing two by two. A swift left at the top of the stairs, and she was stealthily drifting down the blue and white hallways toward the old gym and English hall. She took one more left at the old gym, and skipped down the short hall. Another left and a quick right, and she was in the English hall.

Only then did she slow and saunter past the upstairs computer lab. She waved at Mr. Uchiha, Sasuke's uncle, and poked her head into Nancy's room. A quick hello, and she was back on her way to Hatake's class.

She entered with a rowdy, "Hatake!" The silver-haired man jumped, and upon seeing her, sighed resignedly.

"I had hoped for a proper hello, but I see now I was being an idealist." He went back to reading his paperback, waiting for his class to fill.

She opened her mouth to reply, twisting in her seat, but movement from the corner of her eye drew her attention back to the door.

"Marceau!" She hollered, yet again, hoping to make the redhead jump as she had the older man. Instead, he glowered.

"You're going to call me that until graduation, aren't you?" His frown deepened and he sat next to her.

Seeing his frown, she shot back, "Would you prefer Pierrot? I'd have to repaint your face, and I don't think you can pull off the sad clown thing, but-"

"Gimme your schedule."

Her head snapped to face him, eyes shocked. A blush erupted on her face as she stuttered. "Wh-why?"

"I want to know if I have to avoid you in future classes," he deadpanned, calmly meeting her eyes. She fought the blush down, clearing her throat. Digging into her backpack, she dug out her planner and they compared schedules.

"Great," he said with all the optimism of a convict before execution, "three more classes."

"Crap."

"I agree."

Kakashi cleared his throat, standing in front if their desks. "Well, that's nice. Now can you both shut the hell up so I can teach?" He turned and walked to the front of the classroom.

Funny thing about senses of humor; some people apparently don't have them. So when Sakura retorted with, "What, have the planets come into perfect alignment?" and Gaara snickered, Kakashi's dry look made them both duck their heads.

"Excuse me?"

Sakura opened her hands and waved for him to proceed. "Nothing, Hatake. Please, I am a vessel waiting to be filled."

"That's what your mom said."

"Really, Hatake? Mature."

Gaara sighed inwardly. The pink haired girl confused him to no end, and the way she interacted with the people around her piqued his curiosity.

What was her deal, anyway? How was she simultaneously able to attract and deflect attention?

Gaara slyly observed her explain the difference between upstage and downstage, and his mind wandered. He would be lying if he said she didn't intrigue him, but more so, she concerned him. And the fact that she concerned him at all concerned him even more.

He rubbed his head in ire and tried to push the pinkette out of his mind, instead concentrating on this Hatake's lesson.

Soon enough, fourth period was over, and he was wandering blindly toward French class. Which was... nowhere to be found...

"Hey, Marceau! You lost?" Her voice snapped him out of his daze like a gunshot.

Gaara realized at that point that he had to have done something truly terrible to somebody somewhere. But as he turned to regard the pink-haired girl, he couldn't really be bothered to care as much as he ought to.

And that was when he decided he had entered the realm of Bizarro, and should hole up in his room until the zombie apocalypse.

***************

Yeah, review.


	4. Ch 4 Comment Ca Va?

**2-28-10**: Editing some more. Hopefully some of you recognized the changes in chapters 1-3. I'm still working on chapter 6, it's going to be quite a doozy.

I'm just gonna dig right in.

I don't own Naruto. Kishi-chan does.

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He stood staring at her quite dumbly before she finally found it helpful to speak. Her emerald eyes glittered in glee under the flourescent lights of the school. Her pink lips twisted in a wry smile, and her bottom lip tucked into her teeth to be chewed upon.

Gaara simply continued to stare, not quite sure what to do. He would admit she was pretty, in a plain, 'I-don't-care-what-you-think-of-me-because-I'm-too-busy-painting/skateboarding/writing/being-artsy' way. He was a bit put off at her hipster persona, and the apathetic way she seemed to view the world. She was no more a cynic than he a fluffy bunny. He snapped back to himself as she waved a hand in his face.

"Um... French class?" She sighed and walked ahead of him, waving him along. "Allez avec moi." He found himself maintaining distance, but still trailing the girl. Gaara watched as she waved at a few teachers, and slipped skin with a bun-haired brunette. The girl smiled at Sakura and muttered a 'thanks.'

Sakura turned left at the far end of the English hall, just past the upper computer lab. As Gaara turned the corner, he stopped short, nearly running into the pinkette, who had decided to wait for him at the top of the stairs. She put her hand out, trying to prevent impact, but only succeeding in touching his chest lightly.

His turquoise gaze shifted from surprised to amused when she blushed and snatched her hand back as though burnt.

She lookked away and turned to the stairs, grasping the railing tightly. "S-sorry. Um, down here." She tucked her hair behind her ear and trotted down the stairs quickly. So she was embarrassed. Very interesting. He slowly took each step, focusing on the wave of her hair as it swayed around her shoulders.

As he reached the bottom of the cream colored stairs, he stopped short once again, his shirt lightly touching her back.

'Seriously, what's with this girl?' He could feel her warmth pressed against him a subdued a shiver. From the set of her frame, something was wrong. Her back was stiff, and he could almost taste the unease rolling off of her. Her hands were clenched at her sides, knuckles whitening.

"Sakura," his eyes snapped to an older woman standing near the front pillar-framed doors. Sakura's mother, if her peachy hair was any indication. The woman was thin, but short, with honey brown eyes. Her light hair was cropped short and permed; a style that senior citizens normally donned.

"Mother," Sakura greeted quietly. If Gaara had been anyone else, he would have edged off in a fruitless search for his next class. But he was Gaara, and so he subconsciously stepped a little closer to Sakura, as if to comfort her with his presence. His chest pressed against her back, and she seemed to relax slightly. He mentally berated himself for caring about a girl he barely knew, and raised his head from the pinkette to regard her mother again.

To his surprise, the woman was eyeballing him, and to his further annoyance, she did so with thinly veiled disdain. "I'd like to speak with my daughter," she told him simply. Her eyes moved from his blood red hair to his thin but muscular frame before flicking and narrowing at the kanji etched in his forehead, above his left eye.

He fought a growl, before Sakura reached a hand back to touch his arm, her thumb rubbing a quick circle into his wrist. "I'll see you in class, Marceau." Still with the nicknames, good. She was going to be okay. "Go down the stairs past the Art hall, hang a right and then another quick right. That's Monsieur Sandaime's room." She let go and took a step toward her mother.

"He has a tattoo." He heard as he turned away. A smirk crossed his face, and as he began walking toward the lobby, he heard Sakura's smug reply.

"So he does."

***************

Sakura was more than curious as to why her mother was at school. Usually, the petite woman was something akin to insanely happy to leave Sakura's academic life alone.

"So... Listen. Forgive me for being rude, but what are you doing here?" Sakura took in the visage of the older woman. She had light makeup on, something she rarely indulged in, and had worn her best set of scrubs.

Mitsu said nothing, instead spinning on her heel and walking around the corner to the main office. Sakura followed, very much on edge.

She took in the familiar sight of the secretaries' respective desks, and nodded to Izumo and Kotetsu as they filed paperwork and handed out passes for class.

"Um, mom? I'm gonna be late." Sakura, despite her reputation as a slacker and all-around spacecase, was always prompt to class, ready to pretend to learn. She shot Kotetsu a quizzical glance as the man winked conspicuously at her. **'Smooth as one-grit sandpaper,'** Inner chimed.

It was only then that Sakura realized what Mitsu had in her hand. Her mother rubbed the back of her neck nervously, before handing the small decal to Sakura. "I took the morning off to finalize the paperwork, so..." She trailed off, waiting to see Sakura's reaction.

"I HAVE A CAR?!" She pumped her fist in the air, before dancing around in a small circle, wiggling her fingers in the air. Once the celebratory dance was complete, much to the disappointment of Izumo (who couldn't seem to find his camera ANYwhere!), Sakura nearly tackled her mother. "Oh, thankyouthankyouthankyou!!"

Her mother chuckled and tried to push her daughter turned human barnacle off of her to no avail. Sighing, she managed to disentangle one arm. "It's outside in the student lot waiting for the permit to be placed."

Without an ounce of tact, Sakura asked, "So which one did you get? The Beretta? The ElCamino? Oh! I know-"

"You're just going to have to come with me to see it." With that, her mother swept from the office. Giving Kotetsu a quick high-five, she flounced after her mother. Decorum be damned, she had a car!

'That's right, bitches! I have a car!' Inner proceeded doing the Chicken Dance in glee.

Sakura spent the five minutes it took to walk to the student lot guessing cars. As they neared, her mother instructed her to close her eyes and count to ten.

"I know it's not exactly what you wanted, but this is perfect to hold your extra clothes for plays, and tote your art supplies and whatever else you have." Sakura opened her eyes, and her face fell.

"The wagon?"

Mitsu's eyes flashed hurt, and she hurriedly pretended to check her watch. Digging into her purse, she pulled out a cell phone. Sakura knew the look on her face well, and reached out to touch her mother's shoulder.

"Mom, I just- it's- I do like it, I just haven't a clue what to do with all that space!" The lie rolled easily off her tongue, and she hoped her mother wasn't really paying attention.

"I don't care what you do with it!" She snapped, hurt plain in her voice. "Sleep in it, for all I give a shit. Just remember, you owe me your half of the payment. You signed the agreement with me."

Suddenly, the verdant grounds around them seemed so bleak. Sakura toed the ground, eyes fixed on a pebble. "I know. Home by eleven, no drinking, I pay for any repairs."

Mitsu spun around, stalking to her Subaru. "And I won't be home till late tonight, so make sure your homework is done, as well as the dishes before you go anywhere. God forbid you actually do it, but I can hope."

"Yes, mom." Sakura replied glumly. As her mother opened her door, Sakura called out, "Hey mom? Thank y-" the last word cut off as her mother slammed the door and started the car.

Sakura waved at her regardless, and turned to regard the car again.

It was a mid-90's Volvo wagon, diahrrea green with rust spots, but it was hers. She smoothed the decal over her back window, so the parking lot monitor could easily see it.

Trudging back to the building, she tried to lighten her own mood. She hated when her mother got like this, and feared it was like looking into a mirror. Would she switch moods like that? She didn't think she could handle being on and off like that.

Sakura took the back steps one by one, taking in the sand-colored brickwork of the building, and the plaque attached to it.

'Excellence through diligence,' it read quite simply. The words were nice, but the effect was lost on Sakura in her current state.

By the time she made it back into the main office to get her hall pass, she had five minutes left of French.

"I already called Sandaime, and told him you would not be in today," Izumo informed. She nodded absently, and scratched her nose. She needed a break.

"Can I sign out for lunch a little early?" She asked, her voice hoarse. Kotetsu glanced up at Sakura worriedly, and nodded.

"Sure, Sakura. Just this once. Be back by seventh, okay?" She nodded and signed her name on the signout sheet.

Stopping back at her locker for her coat, she grabbed her backpack, and exited out the side door.

**************

Where was she? Sakura hadn't shown for French class, and it seemed Sandaime didn't mind. He had conveniently left her name out of roll-call, murmuring a 'pas ici' before moving to the next student.

It was lunch, now, and Gaara couldn't seem to find anything in the lunchrooms, both old and new, to pique his appetite.

He stopped at his locker to grab his keys, and left to grab lunch outside of school. Being a Senior, he had open campus status, so he only had to show his school I.D. to leave.

After having a couple slices at the pizza shop up the street, he steered his car back to the student lot. He pulled in behind possibly the ugliest car he'd ever seen, and killed his engine.

He got out of his maroon Skylark, and leaned against the door, dragging on a Camel, sipping a Mountain Dew. He choked when he heard her speak.

"You can't park there without a permit, retard."

*************


	5. Ch 5 Miss World

I want to thank all of my reviewers, first off. It's for you guys that I'm updating so fast. I have a bit of a contest for you, but I will go into that in an author's note after this chapter.

Secondly, if you've been as increasingly invested into reading this as I have been in writing it, you should realize there are shifts in character. Gaara's kind of ooc, and, as I have said before, there is a reason for it. Sakura, well, you'll see a major change this chapter.

Again, thank you guys.

I do not own Naruto, but if Kishi-chan would let me borrow Kakashi, I would be one happy lass.

****************

Her mind wandered as she lay in the back of her station wagon.

'Okay, so it's not so bad,' her Inner commented, opening her hands at the expanse of space available in the rear compartment.

"Yeah, but... A wagon?! Functionally, it's good, but the gas will kill me, and I barely make enough money as it is."

'Don't lie to yourself, excuse the turn of phrase. You do fine. You still have time to participate in the plays Hatake puts on, and... I mean, come the fuck ON! It's not even a real job!' Sakura continued complaining to herself, twisting her hands in the blanket she had placed in the back after she signed out.

She had spent the past half hour at her house, loading her car with cd's and cassettes, and outfitting it for use. She had bought accessories for the day she got one, and weirdly enough, they fit well with the forest green interior.

A visor case for her cd's was decorated with little snails and starfish. The same aquatic creatures dotted her steering wheel cover and front seats, as well.

Her center console had been fully stocked with NoDoz, her cigarettes, an extra lighter (pink, cause no one steals a pink lighter), and a small keychain flashlight that doubled as a pipe. Sakura had already hollowed out a spot under her seat big enough to hold a dimebag, and her highlighters were strategically color coded for weight.

In the backseat sat her backpack and a larger cd case. She also had a small trashbin, as well as a variety pack of chips. A fleece blanket covered the seat to make cleaning easier, and maintain the integrity of the interior. Not that there was a lot of integrity to be upheld, but her trade school clients could do her interior and body work for nearly free when she could get the time.

The rear, she had furnished with a small camping air mattress, ready to be inflated for a night of camping. Atop that, a black and burgundy comforter was spread, with a small sofa pillow to match. Beneath the mattress, in the cargo compartment, was her spare tire, inflated to the necessary amount of psi, as well as maintainance chemicals and a roadside kit.

Despite her grumblings about how lame driving a wagon was, it truly was nice to have the space.

As she laid there, mind wandering after her acceptance of the car, she thought on Gaara.

After he had pinned her to the lockers, she had intended to drive him away from her. Her plan involved being as obnoxious as possible. Only now, it was backfiring; he was still around, and now, he was trying to be, what? Protective?

She got the impression he didn't even know what he was doing.

'Plan B,' Inner chimed. Sakura nodded subconsciously, and ran her fingers through her hair. She straightened her blankets out, and, as she was sitting up, she heard a car pull in behind her.

She turned and rolled her eyes skyward.

"What the hell?" She queried whatever gods were listening. Her green eyes watched as he exited his car and lit up a cigarette.

Crawling out of her rear hatch, she closed it with a thunk, and turned to initiate Plan B.

"You can't park there without a permit, retard," she stated simply. Her eyes lit up with sadistic amusement as he choked on smoke and soda. As he leaned against his car, gasping for breath, she sauntered past him. "Tch. Pathetic."

****************

As Gaara regained his composure, the roseate's words sunk in. Pathetic? What the fuck?

"What the fuck, Sakura?" He shouted, jogging to catch up with her. He grasped her arm, and spun her around. She eyed the offending hand on her coat as though it was a filthy piece of trash. He sucked in a breath when those same eyes met his in annoyance.

"What?" The venom in her voice was palpable.

He let go, mentally berating himself for the physical contact he had with her. "Where were you?" She rolled her eyes, and spun on her toes to begin walking again. His hand shot out once more and he spun her against the chainlink fence separating the sidewalk from the football field and track.

"What is with you and shoving people against things?" Her anger was evident, and her voice raised in tembre. He placed his arms on either side of her head, and gripped the links tightly. She shoved against him, but he was immovable. "Dude! What the fuck?!"

Gaara brought his face close and tried to catch her eye. "I asked you a question." She fixed her gaze on everything but him, her lips pressed together in a sliver of fleshy pink.

"Sakura. I won't ask you again."

"So fucking don't!" She yelled in his face. With a burst of strength, she shoved and he stumbled back, alarmed. He stood back and put his hands in his pockets, unsure of what to do.

"Tch, whatever," he said, before walking away. He threw back a comment of "Crazy bitch," ending their makeshift aquaintance only hours after it had begun.

**************

If one were to ask Sakura about her home life, she would smirk and sarcastically respond, "What home life?" There was, of course, a reason for this. Many, actually.

One, her mother swung between overnight and day shifts at the hospital, so she was rarely seen. The times that she was seen, however, were filled with biting comments followed by hasty apologies and 'forgive me's. Sakura wasn't quite sure what her mother's mental disorder was, whether she was bipolar or schitzophrenic, and not knowing made it hard to tolerate. The woman had a tendency to call Sakura names, then, in the same breath, tell her how lucky she was to have her.

Two, Sakura's father. Enough said. Her father, Kokuro, was a firefighter, and always on call. It wasn't totally due to his chosen profession that he was an absentee parent. He had been an alcoholic when Sakura was a child, and his way of coping with being sober was by immersing himself in his work, away from the source of his problem; Mitsu.

He was a doting father; his way of apologizing to Sakura for the way he had treated her as a child.

She still couldn't hear a belt snap without feeling fear pierce her being.

All of these things combined created who Sakura was today. Her good friends, Naruto and Sasuke, knew her past, and were patient with her when she had panic attacks or went mute for days. They didn't fault her for things that were out of her control, and constantly said little things to keep her in check.

If she was hyper and full of an almost destructive energy, Naruto would say something like, "Hey, Sakura. Let's go to the dojo after school." And she would calm down to save her energy for later on.

If Sakura was emotionally bereft, cold and stony, Sasuke would chastize her, "Your impression of me sucks." And she would burst into giggles, immediately uplifted.

But as Sakura slid down the chainlink fence, shaking, no one was there to quip or quote and save her from herself. The sun shone down on her, and a small part of her wondered if it wasn't supposed to rain in times like this.

She had to get out of there. The school was too confining, it's 700 students creating a veritable sardine can of emotional mindfuckery. Without a second thought, she stood and dusted her legs off, only to walk back to her car and leave.

***************

Okay, so, contest. Remember, this is set in the 2000-2001 timeframe. I need a song from that time, preferably from the late 90's, that describes Sakura and Gaara. Just one. And it cannot be the one this fic is named after.

If you send me a PM or put it in a review, and you win, I will not only dedicate the next chapter to you, but use you as an character, and write you a oneshot with characters of your choice.

Sweet deal.


	6. Ch 6 Cardboard Believer

Okay, so I hope you all enjoyed the last chapter. The winner of the contest is...

Fraulein Märchen Freunde...

And my fiancé, Pikey, who is just too good of an OC to pass up.

As a thanks, you will be in this chapter(and prolly a few more), as well as have a one-shot just pour vous.

So, Märchen, my dear, pm me with your request, desired rating, whatnot. Oh, and I'm not going to use your real name (pretty sure it was on your yt link), just because I don't feel that's practical in a community that is largely based on anonymity and creativity.

One quick word, otherwise. I have noticed that my writing style has slowly (I lie) been changing as this goes on. I'm just getting comfortable with something not of the KakaSaku persuasion.

I do not own Naruto or any trademarked organizations contained herein. But I have a kickass lizard.

**************

Dusk was falling, filling Gaara's room with pinky orange hues. The beige and maroon walls began to look like Warhol turned into a personal decorator. It did nothing to improve his mood, only serving to remind him of the pink haired girl he hadn't spoken to in five months.

"Crazy bitch." Those words continually echoed through his head when he looked at her. In the few days that had followed, he had felt his chest constricting, squeezing the life from him. He had tapped her shoulder a few times, written her margin notes, to no avail. During their joint classes, she found other places to sit. If that wasn't an option, she simply ignored him altogether.

At first, he had tried to ask her why she had skipped P.E. that Wednesday so long ago, but all his question garnered was an icy stare, and a curt, "Suck it." He did notice her green eyes held a wariness when regarding him, as though he might be a typhoid mary. Also in her gaze, if he really thought about it, was a sort of glassy bloodshot quality, as though she had been staring at a computer screen.

Gaara knew why she shut him out, fundamentally. He was new, strange, already invading her life and her lies. He watched her socialize from the background, saw that she could smile and laugh still. But not with him. Not with fucking him! Jealousy burned his gut, and bile rose in his mouth. He cared because she was also new, and strange. Because she smelled like sweet things, like candies and flowers, and angel kisses. He could see a wry humor in her green depths, a keen intelligence bound by the limitations of the average high school. He stood back and watched her pink lips twist, watched her nibble them in consternation, watched her lick them in anticipation. And he would twist, nibble, and lick his in subconscious response.

His siblings had noticed his tension that day. Temari quietly asked him how his day had gone, with all the quiet interest a mother-figure should have. He simply walked past her to the stairs, and said nothing. At dinner that night, Kankuro had joined in, tactful as ever.

"So, what's got your panties in a chokehold?"

Gaara simply extricated himself from the table.

Now it was February 9th, the Friday before Valentine's Day, and he had nothing to do for the weekend. Gaara's mind swam with boredom and unwanted thoughts. If his father were here, he would be training in martial arts.

Of course, if his father _were_ here, Gaara would most likely be prematurely tucking him into bed after his latest binge. It was easier these days to think on the subject. His heart no longer felt like it was going to beat out of his chest.

Gaara's father, the late Kazekage of Suna, capital city of a state far south, had died five years prior in a car accident. The horrible irony was that, one, it was one of the few times he had been driving sober, and two, he was hit by a drunk driver. That situation alone made Gaara believe karma was a cold and vindictive bitch.

Suna had been in a period of morning for two weeks after. They wept for the figure his father represented, while his children cried for the father they had wanted him to be and never was. Temari had dutifully taken on the maternal aspect of the house, and Kankuro always made sure bills were paid in a timely manner. The only thing Gaara had to worry about was his education.

For the five years following his father's death, Gaara had been a cold person. Angry and violent were terms that were too loose when describing him. He often would come home with bruises and bloody lips, and shortly thereafter, the cops would come.

After the last time, two years ago, the state admitted him into a mental institution for at-risk youth. He would say that, yes, it did help him, but the medication made him feel nothing, turning him into a hollow shell. He would rather feel pent up than empty.

His thoughts were cut short as a sharp knock sounded on his door. Without waiting for a reply, Kankuro stuck his head in. "Hey."

Gaara's nonexistant eyebrow raised in reply.

"Wanna go somewhere with me?" Gaara needed no more invitation. He sat up on his bed, toeing his shoes over to him.

"Where are we going?" He eyeballed his closet, wondering if he should change first.

Sensing his question, Kankuro replied. "There's a show at the local youth center, and I gotta pick something up." He entered the room fully and turned on the Playstation. "We have time if you wanna shower first."

"Nah, it's okay."

Kankuro turned his head, regarding him seriously. "Dude, I didn't wanna say anything, but take a fucking shower. You smell like my balls."

Gaara grabbed some clothes and a towel. On his way to the bathroom, he smacked Kankuro upside the head, which earned a yelp.

"What the hell?"

"That's for using my shampoo to wash your balls." Kankuro's laughter followed him to the bathroom. It was nice being able to joke again with his brother. After the 'home,' things between them had been tense. He felt like Kankuro was deliberately watching his words and treading lightly around him. He resented his brother for being afraid of him, and resented himself for making his brother fear him.

He supposed that was what drew him to Sakura so much. He recognized her issues, and, while they still remained largely undefined, he couldn't fault her for being skittish. She seemed to be comprised of extremes and contradictions. The relationship with her mother mirrored that of he and his father, and he felt for her.

But his compassion had limits, and her actions on a daily basis for the past several months had quickly depleted it.

His shower done, he quickly dressed and retrieved Kankuro. He wasn't surprised to see him leaned forward in the beanbag chair, mashing buttons. After a rather impressive attack combo, Gaara unplugged the power strip from the wall.

"Hey! I was almost to the save point!" Kankuro whined, and Gaara shot him a pointed glare.

"Aren't we going somewhere?" He asked, slipping his floor length leather coat over his broad shoulders. Realization lit up Kankuro's features, and he ran out of the room, yelling back, "Meet me at the car!"

The redhead sighed and shook his head. For as responsible as Kankuro could be, he was pretty immature sometimes. Gaara had no delusions of what they were picking up. Kankuro had admitted to him that he habitually smoked pot, and had explained why.

It helped calm him down and help him focus.

At least he had a reason. Occasionally, Gaara had joined in, more of out the need to bond over _some_thing. He knew the risks, and made his brother promise him never to do anything stupid. Gaara's belief was, as with coffee or soda, or any type of legal drug, responsibility and moderation were important. Just because a drug was illegal didn't mean one just forgot to be responsible. Granted, things like crack and heroin are bad for a person, just based on the chemical composition, but something like marijuana had such a low amount of harmful traits... It just made sense to treat it as though it were a tobacco product.

Realizing he had been zoning out, he laced up his combat boots, and stalked out the door, shutting it behind him.

******

The drive was relatively uneventful, yet not beneficial to Gaara's overall mood. The conversation was the killer.

"So, I already talked to my dude, and she said it's fine to bring you along." Gaara nodded in response, absently staring out the window as the road turned from countryside to cityscape.

"She'll grill you at first. Just answer her questions honestly, and don't be a dumbass."

Gaara eyed Kankuro as though he had grown a third head. "I doubt you have anything to worry about."

"I mean... She's real sensitive about her appearance and stuff."

"What? Is she a cheerleader or something? Concerned about flyaways while doing a drug deal? I'll bet she eats a tictac before shotgunning a blunt, just so her breath won't smell." Kankuro made a sour face, and shook his head.

"Not... Quite... She's just-uh- unique, is all. I guess when she was a kid, everyone made fun of her, calling her 'Forehead' and 'Pinky'." He turned onto another street, and immediately turned on his blinker.

"Wait... We're meeting Sakura?!" Gaara demanded, an impressive display of emotion for him. Kankuro turned into a parking lot, narrowly avoided a skateboarder, and pulled into a space.

Next to him was the same horrific Volvo Gaara had seen in the student lot. It's back hatch was open, and he could hear music blaring, as smoke rings drifted up, up, up.

As he and Kankuro exited the car, he heard her voice.

"Hey Kanky! And..." She paused, then said with as little emotion as possible, "Marceau."

******************

While Inner Sakura was laughing her head off at Sakura's luck, Outer Sakura was schooling her face into a calm mask. She invited both boys to sit next to her, and grabbed a McDonald's cup. Taking a fake sip, she pretended to offer Kankuro one.

Sly, she was. As Kankuro took the soda, he slipped her $40. "You can have the soda," she replied to him. "It's flat anyway."

If the cops tried to search him for pot, they would find nothing. The eighth-ounce was in a sandwich baggy, tucked into the cup.

She had a joint prerolled, and lit it up. Taking a healthy drag, she handed it to Kankuro, then lit a cigarette.

"So are you staying for the show?" She asked his brother. The shaggy haired brunette shrugged, and looked to Gaara.

He took the proferred joint, sucked on it, and handed it back.

"Might as well, Kankuro. You're not driving for an hour." Sakura looked between the two, confused. Taking her hint, Kankuro explained.

"Gaara's got this thing about responsibility."

"Okay? So, your name's Gaara?" Her Inner swooned a bit, repeating his name dreamily, and Sakura mentally rolled her eyes.

The boy in question nodded.

"So what's your 'responsibility' thing?" They passed the rolled paper around while Gaara compiled his thoughts, which were already muddled.

"Well- wait. Do you have water or anything?" She nodded and twisted to reach her case of soda. He cleared his throat and continued.

"Well, I pretty much figure pot's less harmful than alcohol or cigarettes, so why can't it be personally managed as such. I mean, people do stupid shit after drinking a few beers," Kankuro winced as he said that. "Kankuro knows what I mean. So anyway, if a person can be responsible with consumption, or have sort of like a D.D., then marijuana wouldn't be the scourge of the government."

Sakura's mouth hung open. Murmuring a 'peace out,' Kankuro walked inside the youth center.

"So, you're expecting, one, people to take personal responsibility for their actions, and, two, the government to give up their cash cow?" Now it was Gaara's turn to gape. She was talking to him! Not even that, she was debating with him!

Composing himself, he replied. "I'm simply saying that, if one is going to make the decision to use, they should be prepared for the consequences, and think and act safely." Sakura hopped off of her back hatch and motioned hastily for him to get out. He complied, and barely missed getting his head knocked.

"Maybe some people don't care about consequences," she replied, before walking in herself.

He trailed behind her, feeling even more so that he should defend his point. His next sentence drove it home for Sakura. "Maybe some people should."

She could feel her anger rising past the haze in her mind. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?!" She gritted out, whirling on him. The woman working at the admission table looked up in surprise.

"Ms. Haruno, I suggest you curb your language. It would be a shame to have to ask you to leave." The older woman stared at Sakura benignly for a moment, before waving her through.

"Ich bin traurig. Ich versuche, mein temperament zu steuern," Sakura replied, placing a hand lightly on the woman's shoulder. She nodded and smiled brightly.

Mrs. Märchen was probably one of the last people Sakura had to cling to, and she was not about to put that relationship in jeopardy. If there were anyone who had stood by Sakura through thick and thin, it would be the woman at admissions. She had reminded Sakura of her talent for the plays. Had helped her rehearse her lines and memorize the blocking. When Sakura needed to learn sheet music, she had been there.

Fraulein Märchen ran the center for the city of Konohagakure. It had begun as a place for the youth to meet and take field trips; a sort of YMCA specifically for latch-key kids. The center had progressed into a full on recreation center, accepting donations to build a snack bar, and allowing local bands to play.

Regretfully, it had also become a place for the local youth to conduct their less than legal activities. For the Fraulein's sake, most of it was done in the alley behind, but it was still done.

Sakura took in the renovations that had been done that week with wide eyes. Exposed rafters were wound with rope lights. Dome lights hung over two new pools tables over in the North end. Next to them sat the snack bar, with newly upholstered stool cushions of deep blue.

Looking to her right, she noticed the stage had been raised a foot and a half, to prevent the bands from being rushed. Tables were set in a half circle twenty feet from the stage. To the right of the stage, a pleather sofa sat under a window, with the matching chair adjacent. To the left of the stage, a door led to the deejay booth.

The walls had been decorated with band and movie posters overtop Jackson Pollack inspired paint splatters.

Sakura stumbled forward as Gaara bumped into her. "Stop daydreaming, space cadet." She rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth. Looking over at the snack bar, she noticed Ino doling out treats.

As she approached, Ino looked up and smiled. "Hey Forehead!" She greeted loudly. Sakura grinned right back and sat down on a stool.

"Hey Pig. Didn't think you were working tonight?" She half-asked. The blonde girl in question scoffed and twirled her hair around her pointer finger.

"I wasn't supposed to, but Chouji and Shikamaru are playing tonight, so I figured I'd put in some hours. Besides, looks like it's gonna be crowded." She smirked knowingly at Sakura, who grimaced in return. Ino's eyes shifted behind Sakura. A coy grin split her face. "Well, hello there."

Sakura turned slightly to identify the person and groaned. "Don't you have other people to stalk?"

Gaara took the stool next to her and smirked, his red hair hiding his eyes. "But I thought I was _your_ stalker?" She gaped openly at him, blush slowly creeping over her cheeks.

"Are- are you _flirting_ with me?" Ino leaned forward, ignoring the calls of other customers, to put her chin to fist in interest. Some things are just more important than money. Seeing her pink haired friend flustered and speechless was right on top of that list. Next to a date with Sasuke, of course.

The redhead leaned slowly closer to Sakura, one hand on the back of her stool, its thumb swirling little circles into her shoulder blades. She gasped as his breathy reply caressed over her neck on its ingress to her ear. "Would you like me to?"

She stammered and shot Ino a 'help-me' look, eyes wide and pleading. The blonde girl rolled her eyes and glanced at her watch.

"Welp, kiddies, as fun as this is to watch, Sakura's got about 5 minutes to get her cute little ass backstage." The cerise-locked girl needed no further spurring. Sakura damn near jumped from her stool, almost knocking it over. She grabbed the water Ino held out to her and rushed through the crowd.

As Gaara watched the backstage door shut behind her, he slid his gaze toward Ino. Her cobalt eyes glittered with amusement and protectiveness. "So what was that all about?"

He shrugged. "Nachos."

Confusion swept over Ino's pretty features like the ebb of a tide. "What?! What is that-"

"I want nachos." Her face turned beet red and she nodded once. She spun to retrieve a tray of bite-sized tortilla chips and a cup of warm jalapeño cheese.

"Two fifty," she replied, setting the snack in front of him. After making change for his five, she leaned once again on the counter. "So, seriously, what was that shit?"

He met her eye vacantly, the perfect picture of stoicism. "I don't know to what you are referring." He crunched a nacho for good measure, and turned to face the stage. Soundcheck had started, and someone was a killer bassist.

"Shika, you showoff," Ino cursed under her breath. The bassist in question turned out to be a lanky boy with a high, spiky ponytail. An unlit cigarette sat in his mouth, bobbing with every pluck of the heavy strings. His Shechter Stiletto hung as far as his strap would allow, his back bowed under its weight.

The crowd gathering cheered suddenly as he played 'Winona's Big Brown Beaver', and booed when he suddenly stopped. The teen heaved a troubled sigh and stepped to the microphone. "Troublesome... Check... Check one..." After three minutes of repeating himself, Shikamaru finally nodded and put his bass on it's stand. He grabbed the guitar, an LTD Viper, and let loose a series of tremelo picks.

"Chouji's gonna be so pissed," Ino commented. Gaara turned and shot her a glare, akin to 'shut up', before he picked his nacho tray up and stood.

"Wait!" Ino grabbed the sleeve of his coat, and fought to keep her grip under his death glare. "Just... Listen, if you do anything to hurt her, I will end you. I don't know how I'll do it, but I will." She let go, and turned to take someone else's order. "Goddamnit, Kiba, you're up my ass like a hemmorhoid!!"

Gaara stared at the space the blonde girl had been for a moment before turning to walk to a table. Shortly thereafter, soundcheck was over, the moment marked by cheers of the impressive crowd that had gathered. Another roar started up when the woman from Admissions stepped onto the stage. She looked around a moment and squinted through the light up at the deejay booth.

"Ready?" She asked quietly. "Okay." Raising her voice a little more, to address the audience, "Wow, there are a lot of you. Phew! And here I was worried no one would show. Welp, I wanna say a few things before we get started. For those of you who don't know me, I run this place. My name is Mrs. Märchen." As she introduced herself, shouts and applause broke out. She held her dainty hand to silence them.

"Some of you call me a few different things; the Fraulein, Mein Führer if you're on my bad side... My favorite is M. I just love James Bond. But I digress... The reason we're here tonight is to celebrate the renovations we've done, with your help, and to raise money for the Skate Jam in June. I feel it's only appropriate to have the band that will play the Jam do a show to get you excited." She smirked and eyed the audience expectantly. "Are you excited?" Thunderous applause filled the space and she laughed.

"Well good. As some of you know, we normally have a lot of rules here when a show is going on, but because you guys worked so hard to make this place what it is, I'm giving you a night off. The only rules I have tonight are no moshing, and keep the food off the dance floor. You do not want to be the one to clean the floors. So," she said over the excited shuffling of the crowd before her, "without further ado, the band that will play the Skate Jam; Red City!"

Chants and cheering broke out as M descended the stairs stage left, and five people ascended stage right. The same pineapple-headed boy slung the bass strap over his shoulder, experimentally plucking a few strings. A husky boy picked up the LTD Viper, and ran his fingers along the fretboard, getting a feel for the strings. A girl with straight indigo hair sat behind the drum set, tapping her sticks on the rim of her floor tom absently. The second guitar was retrieved by a muscular boy in a Woodstock '99 shirt, his brown hair in a shave under.

Finally, the chanteuse walked upon the stage, and for a moment, Gaara forgot how to breathe. There, bathed in the blue spotlight before him, was one Sakura Haruno.

************

Aaaaaaand there it is. Kinda boring, but it's a lead up to the next one, which is almost done. Feel free to message me with questions, suggestions, whatnot...


	7. Ch 7 What Do I Have To Do?

Yeah, if you hate songfics, await the next chapter, because this one is all songfic. The list of songs is after the chapter.

OH! And guess what? I bought a laptop!! No more DoomBerry updates!

I don't own Naruto, but I do own most of the cd's these songs show up on.

Song credits are at the end.

* * *

She tapped the microphone shortly, causing a bit of feedback, before she plucked it from its stand with practiced ease. Murmuring something to the rhythm guitarist, they both nodded at eachother, and he handed her his guitar.

Finally, she turned to the crowd. "Thank you all for coming out tonight! Normally, we'd start off nice and slow, but Pikey wants to tell you a story,, so join if you know this one!"

As soon as the words left her pretty little mouth, the drummer played an uneven beat on her floor tom, and Shikamaru, the bassist, broke into an upward slide of his e-string, before breaking into a series of complex picks and chords. The guitarists jumped in, wailing and keeping beat, as the drummer kept a steady tattoo going with her bass and tom, and occasionally her crash cymbal.

Suddenly, the music stopped, and Pikey rose the microphone to his lips.

"Chik-cha! 'I remember as if it were a meal ago'" He distorted his voice, to sound like an old man, and Shikamaru brought the bass back, muting it along with the percussion. He switched back to a normal voice, and, rather than sing, began to weave a story.

"Said Tommy the Cat as he reeled back to clear whatever foreign matter may have nestled its way into his mighty throat.

Many a fat alley rat had met its demise while staring point blank down the cavernous barrel of this awesome prowling machine.

Truly a wonder of nature this urban predator.

Tommy the cat had many a story to tell,

But it was a rare occasion such as this that he did."

Shikamaru performed another slide before finger picking down the fretboard. Sakura picked up the slack as the lead guitarist played a series of siren-esque chords. Once again, Pikey changed his voice, and leaned toward the audience, prowling the stage.

"'She came slidin' down the alleyway like butter drippin' off a hot biscuit. The aroma, the mean scent, was enough to arouse suspicion in even the oldest of Tigers that hung around the hot spot in those days. The sight was beyond belief. Many a head snapped for double - even triple - takes as this vivacious feline made her her way into the delta of the alleyway where the most virile of the young tabbys were known to hang out. They hung in droves. Such a multitude of masculinity could only be found in one place...And that was O'malley's Alley!'" There was a crescendo of sound, and the music went back to it's former calmness.

"'The air was thick with cat calls (no pun intended), But not even a muscle in her neck did twitch as she sauntered up into the heart of the alley. She knew what she wanted. She was lookin' for that stud bull, the he cat. And that was me.'" He stopped and stood still in the center of the stage, raised his head to the ceiling, and yelled abrasively, "'Tommy the Cat is my name and I say unto thee...'"

Gaara's mouth hung open as he watched the cherry-haired girl's hands flit over the frets, confident in her ability. The boy singing jammed out and beckoned Sakura to him, when Sakura walked over to him, they mock flirted. The scene still had Gaara's jaw clenching, however.

"'Say baby do you wanna lay down by me'" Through the throes of chaotic bass and heavy drum, he kept repeating this line, sometimes drawing it out, sometimes stuttering it. At one point, she stood in front of the bassist and, while he fingered the proper chords, she plucked her fingers along the strings, a coquettish smirk on her pretty face. Shikamaru chuckled and shook his head as she went back to playing her series of drop-D chords.

Finally, the end had come, and the crowd cheered, eager for the next song. Sakura giggled and took the mic again, handing Pikey his guitar.

The husky auburn haired boy didn't hesitate, as he pounded through a progression of chords. The dark haired drummer joined him, crashing her cymbals. The energy of the band was infectious, and even Gaara found himself tapping his foot. From there, a serious song about drug addiction and denial had him regretting his words earlier. It amazed him to see such an emotionally obtuse girl be at ease on stage in front of at least a hundred of her peers. And more people were filing in!

The word had apparently gotten out even more about the show at the Center, and friends of friends of acquaintances had shown up to watch the blossom belt out lyrics like a pro. By the time the venue had reached maximum capacity, the set list had taken a complete 180.

* * *

Sakura could have spit when she caught Gaara's penetrating stare. He wasn't supposed to have come with Kankuro. It was supposed to be cut and dry. She spoke down to him, he'd be so angry, he'd leave her alone, and they could both carry on their mutual separate existences. Instead, his buffoon of a brother- his brother?!- had unconsciously and unerringly condemned her to scatterbrained fantasies of what could be.

She couldn't lie, and she had made it a habit not to, but to tell the truth- mostly- she liked him. She found his monotone, gravelly voice could shoot shivers like little ants marching up and down her spine. His green-blue-green eyes could not decide what color they were, and that suited her just fine, because she could ponder it all day. He had walked right into her messy life, and, without knowing a single thing about her, had brought her out of her nomally misanthropic musings. And he made her heart pound, so, so fiercely, it clenched and stung with every throb, as long as he was around.

Sakura had spent the last several months watching him from the corners of her eyes, poised for defense, never attack. She was envious of his grace, moving so fluidly between the bodies of the delusional lemmings that passed for peers. He was always unfazed, unflinching, when they would stumble blindly around him. In her deconstruction of his person, she mused Gaara to be a prowling lion, awaiting his next kill. She watched from the sidelines as his muscles bunched and coiled with every simple movement. He was built for attack, for speed and dexterity; very simply, he was beautifully dangerous. Even more so, since he had taken a shine to her.

Why she had ever attacked him back when he had her cornered that first day, she couldn't say for sure. Perhaps to prove herself as a force to be reckoned with. Perhaps to incite the change she so desperately needed and deserved. When he had stepped close to her, pinning her with arms and thigh, she could smell the blood on him, the seductive danger. Even now, Sakura could feel the corded muscle of his body, a ghost in her memory, and her sense were alight as his eyes roved her figure.

She heaved a deep breath, and nodded to Chouji. Shikamaru and Pikey caught the cue, and readied themselves as well. The heavier boy began to play a slow intro, and she raised the microphone to her lips. As she brought her eyes back up to the audience, she caught sight of the one person she had been trying to escape tonight.

* * *

Mitsu walked through the door of the Youth Center, intent on pulling her daughter out kicking and screaming. She had heard what happened here. She had heard about this Märchen woman, and her big dreams for the misguided youth of the city. The castoffs, her lip curled in distaste.

She had heard about Sakura's part in the reconstruction of this haven for the undesirable. It was so... Dishonorable.

But as she took in the ambiance, the general look of the place, a small part of her wished she had had some place like this to go to when her own parents had fought their silent fights. Mitsu heard, rather than saw, Sakura up on the stage, flouncing around like some cheap show. She tolerated her love of the theatre, because they were a school function, but this? This was a waste of time. Sakura could be better spending this time at home, where Mitsu could keep an eye on her.

She realized sheltering her daughter from the undesirable parts of the world was only pushing her to further explore them. She realized this, and couldn't stop. Perhaps it was her own fear of Sakura abandoning her to a loveless marraige. Was it really loveless? No, it was simply... Strained.

Strained. It could describe many facets of her life, all of which she took out on those closest to her in an attempt to deal with the stress of being her. Dr. Kona had not been wrong when she had told Mitsu she was depressed, but despite knowing the truth, she couldn't deal with it. She simply compartmentalized her life, her problems, until the act of mentally placing everything in small, detached boxes became too tedious.

She leaned against a wooden pillar, hand to her forehead. Already, the migraine was coming on. Triggered by the sight of her beautiful, talented, wretched daughter, in a public venue, singing and screaming and inciting other peoples' children to be just as wretched. When had her own daughter become the bad influence?

Just when she thought it couldn't get any worse, Sakura began the next song. Mitsu's cheeks flamed in embarassment and indignation.

"It's been a while

Since I could...

Hold my head up high

It's been a while

Since I first saw you

It's been a while

Since I could stand on my own two feet again

And it's been a while

Since I could call you."

Was this a punishment for being a strict mother? She had allowed Sakura a car and a lax curfew - 11 o'clock was when she should be in bed, for God's sake!- and this was the thanks she was given. Aired out in public like communal laundry. Sold out for entertainment. These people didn't need to know their problems!

"And everything I can remember

As fucked up as it all may seem

Consequences that I've rendered

Have stretched myself beyond my means."

And such language! Mitsu had to admit to herself, as she stood therw with fists clenched, Sakura was immensely talented, and perhaps she was simply being too sensitive. She listened to songs every day; songs that weren't particularly indicative of any one person or situation, simply out in the open air. But she knew somewhere, one person remembered that one situation.

She decided the best course of action was to stay back, watch the show. File everything away for further use. Fodder.

She really wasn't a malicious person! Where did this paranoia come from?! She was proud that her daughter could stand and voice herself, proud everytime she cussed to make a statement. But her upper middle class upbringing also screamed, raged, and wailed in convoluted disagreement.

"It's been a while

Since I could say that I wasn't addicted

It's been a while

Since I could say I loved myself as well and...

It's been a while

Since I've gone and fucked things up

Just like I always do

It's been a while

But all that shit seems to disappear when I'm with you."

Mitsu knew about the drugs, knew where Sakura was getting her money from. And she would do nothing to stop it. Because Sakura needed to learn the hard way, and because the money was good. Dr. Kona had let that slip during a session before the summer. Sakura never wondered why she was being shipped off to her aunt's. Only jumped up and down, clapping and cheering.

'Does she hate me that much?'

Mitsu caught the flicker of her daughter's veridian eyes toward the redhead. 'Sabaku...' She thought disdainfully. She knew all about him. His father had been an alcoholic, she'd heard at the office. He was neglectful and abusive, and his children suffered. The oldest, Temari, had control issues and a fiery temper. She had been left to run the house. The middle child, Kankuro, was disrespectful and that was, she supposed, the result of not having an appropriate adult figure. Someone to discipline behavior like that.

And the youngest. Gaara Sabaku. He was the worst. Two years in a mental institution, a police record. He was violent, unstable, unpredictable. Just the sort of creature she needed to keep her daughter away from.

More unsettling than his history was the look he was giving her daughter. If she weren't prancing around on stage like a two dollar whore-

But the thing was, Sakura wasn't even moving. She was stock still, eyes closed, gripping the microphone tightly.

"And everything I can remember

As fucked up as it all may seem

Consequences that I've rendered

Gone and fucked things up again... again

Why must I feel this way?

Just make this go away

Just one more peaceful day."

Mitsu's eyes widened at the torment in her daughter's voice.

"It's been a while

Since I could...

Look at myself straight

It's been a while

Since I said I'm sorry

It's been a while

Since I've seen the way candles light your face

It's been a while

But I can still remember just the way you taste

Everything I can remember

As fucked up as it all may seem

To me... I know this pain

Can I blame this on my father?

He did the best he could for me"

She snorted. Sakura's father was a drunk, just like the Sabaku trio's. Even though he had quit drinking seven years prior, a drunk was a drunk. As a result of his problems with the drink, she had found several bottles in Sakura's room, all empty.

"It's been a while

Since I could...

Hold my head up high

It's been a while

Since I said I'm sorry"

Mitsu was shocked, to say the least. She had expected Sakura to put some of her own experiences into her music, but this was overdoing it.

As the cheers rose up from the crowd, the girl drumming, Mitsu remembered the Hyuga girl from the plays, began a standard waltz beat. She focused on the band as a whole, noticing Pikey- she rolled her eyes, what a name- and Chouji had both pressed their pedals, playing a very Elizabethan tune. 'Sounds like a harpsichord,' she thought. Shikamaru thumbs the strings of his bass, lazily slouched. She scoffed at the cigarette hanging out of his mouth. His parents would be so pissed off about that. Mitsu contemplated snapping a photo and grimaced as she remembered it was in her car. Heresay would be enough.

For now, she would just lean back and watch the show.

* * *

As he watched the pinkette sway with the song, the part of Gaara that he usually shoved away resurfaced.

'She's so gorgeous in her sadness,' the voice mused, awed and hungry. 'I'll bet she cuts herself.' His mouth watered involuntarily, and he had to fight to push away the slurping noises his demon made. He hadn't gone through a year and a half of therapy and twice-daily medication to have it fall apart... In public, no less!

Out of his periphery, he could see Sakura's mother. At first when she had walked in, he had assumed she was supporting her daughter, but by the thin frown and clenched fists folded over her chest, he knew it was the opposite. His attention went back to the petite chanteuse.

'Exactly how much of this is real?' He wondered. The next few songs seemed to worsen Mitsu's mood. Songs about broken families, self mutilation, and revenge created dark shadows of anger and embarassment on Mitsu's face.

He averted his attention back to the show, occasionally glaring at the girls who came up to him, giggling and blushing. No, he didn't want company. Yes, he did mind if they sat with him.

His hazy mind processed the strained relationship Sakura apparently had with her mother. He remembered the day she had come to the school, remembered the calculating gaze that held him in contempt.

Most of all, Gaara remembered the way Sakura had faced forward, seemingly unafraid, to weather whatever would come. And now, with the band exiting the stage, he understood how she had channeled all of her hurt and anger, and why, with her mother here, Sakura's shoulders seemed to sag a little.

He stood as Mitsu pushed off the wooden support to address her daughter.

* * *

As they exited the stage, Sakura had to laugh when Pikey wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "So whatdya say, kitten? You, me, a cup of coffee...?" He trailed off, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. She laughed, shaking her head.

Shikamaru huffed out an amused breath. "Watch it, Sakura, he'll love you and leave ya." Pikey's mouth gaped in indignation.

"No, I'd worship her, and then strategically remember I have to be home."

Sakura laughed even louder, and grabbed the blue eyed boy's hand from around her shoulder. "It's okay, Shika. I have it from a very good source that I'm not the only one with the nickname of 'Pinky'," she said, waving her pinky finger in the air.

"Yeah, good source, right." Pikey huffed in faux anger. "And just who is this source?" He asked as they rounded the corner to the backstage door. No one would have stopped if Hinata hadn't squeaked, catching sight of Sakura's mother.

Sakura turned, flashing a quick smile that she hoped passed off as confident and fearless.

She tossed a smirk in Pikey's direction. "Tell your mom I say hi, and I'll see her later." He burst out laughing and flipped her off, giving her mother a glare before walking away. Sakura looked at her mother's shoes, unable to meet her face.

"I cannot believe you would do something so stupid. Airing our business out for everyone to know, as though it's their right?" Mitsu's voice was filled with righteous indignation. Sakura chanced a tentative glance at Mitsu's hands, only to drop her eyes away from the clenched fists she saw. Her jaw ticked to the side, as the words slowly sank in.

"They're just songs!"

"Just songs? Right, think of what your father would say!" Sakura knew her father would be proud. He had known she was coming here tonight, and had sent her off with a kiss to the forehead, telling her to break a leg. She came back to her mother's voice. "I'll bet you tell your friends all sorts of terrible things. They probably think I'm some kind of witch with the lies you spread."

Sakura's eyes flashed, and her face reddened in anger. She stepped closer to her mother, glaring down at the slightly shorter woman.

"Seriously? You just pulled me away from my friends to yell at me because you're concerned someone might think ill of you?!"

Before she could get one more word out, before she could raise her finger and poke it into her venemous mother's chest, Gaara's voice rang out from around the corner.

"Well, personally, I think she's a bitch." His tall form shadowed the small alcove as he walked toward the two. He turned to Sakura and grabbed her wrist gently. "I need to talk to you. It's important."

As they turned to leave, Gaara turned back to Mitsu, and fixed her with an ill-intentioned stare.

* * *

Here's their set-list, so you can listen to it whenever you want if you have Pandora or iTunes or whatever:

"Tommy the Cat" by Primus, off of 'Sailing the Seas of Cheese'

"Moment of Weakness" by Bif Naked, off of 'I Bificus'

"Not An Addict" by K's Choice, off of

"Pardon Me" by Incubus, off of 'Make Yourself'

"Excuse Me, Mister" by No Doubt, off of Tragic Kingdom

"High and Dry" by Radiohead, off of 'The Bends'

"Crawling" by Linkin Park, off of 'Hybrid Theory'

"It's Been Awhile" by Staind, off of 'Break The Cycle'

"The Nobodies" by Marilyn Manson, off of 'Holy Wood'

"Wait and Bleed" by Slipknot, of off 'Slipknot'

"Broken Home" by Papa Roach, off of 'Between Angels and Insects'

"Absent" by Snot, off of "Strait Up (the tribute to Lynn Strait)" and the hidden track on 'Get Some'

"Trickster" by Kidneythieves, off of 'Trickster'

"Strawberry Gashes" by Jack Off Jill, off of 'Clear Hearts, Grey Flowers'

"When I Am Queen" by Jack Off Jill, off of 'Clear Hearts, Grey Flowers'

i will be updating soon, as i have chapter 8 completely planned out. your reviews feed me... and i'm very hungry.


	8. Ch 8 Low

Okay, so here's the new chapter, straight from the new 'puter.

Disclaimer: I just bought 98 cent red lipstick. Take that as proof that I do NOT own Naruto. If I did, Sasuke would probably not be a douche and there would be so many more KakaSaku moments.

* * *

Stumbling out behind the redheaded boy, Sakura was still in shock at her mother's words. On one hand, Sakura could see her point. She had sung some scathing songs, ones her mother wasn't even supposed to be privy to. Not because they were about Mitsu, but because they dealt with very personal, private issues. On the other hand, Sakura was hurt that Mitsu had not even shown an iota of concern. A normal parent would have interpreted those songs as a cry for help. Instead, Mitsu had taken them as an attack on her reputation. Dr. Kona was sure to hear about the performance at her mother's next session, which was almost a certainty.

She looked down to Gaara's hand, still circling her small wrist. His thumb unconsciously rubbed the inside of her wrist, almost soothingly. A warm blush erupted over her cheeks, and she remembered the benign way he had insulted her mother, as if commenting on the weather, or asking for the peas. Her eyes trailed back up his back, attempting to stare a hole in the back of his head. Clearing her throat, she tried to get his attention.

"Your keys," he said more than asked. He turned his sea foam eyes on her, and her blush began anew. Gaara's hand relinquished its hold on her wrist and, by proxy, her sanity.

"Huh?" She could have slapped herself. The keys, right. Jiggling the pockets on her black cargo pants, she finally heard the telltale jingle. She dug and handed them to him, snatching her hand back when their fingers met. She clutched it to her chest and shot him a glare when she realized what her reaction had hinted at. He smirked arrogantly, and Sakura fought to keep from smacking the expression off his face.

He unlocked her door and, in an uncharacteristic display of chivalry, held open her door. "Uh… thanks." Sakura sat in the driver's seat and found herself watching the redhead like a hawk. He was up to something. When he had gotten in and situated himself, she turned toward him. "So… what was that all about? What's so important?"

His head was turned toward her back window, watching the door to the Youth Center. "You looked like you needed an escape plan." His eyes narrowed and he forcefully pushed her head down in the seat. "Why do you put up with her? Is she always like that?"

"No, not always." She heaved a sigh, remembering the day just last week that Mitsu had suggested they order takeout and watch movies together. They had gotten sweet and sour chicken from the place in the shopping plaza, and watched American Beauty. Sakura remembered blushing during the racier parts, and crying at the end. Most of all, she remembered feeling like Thora Birch's character; looking for an escape from the banality of life with her parents, and their fucked up relationship. Wishing she had someone who loved her enough to whisk her away to an unknown future, a more exciting future.

"Sometimes, she's almost… human."

A mocking grunt answered her. Sakura smacked at the arm attached to the hand holding her head into her seat, ruffling her hair. Instead of relinquishing his hold, his fingertips dug in a little more. She didn't even bother to try to turn and shoot him an incredulous stare. He would simply ignore it anyway. "So what do you do on the days like this?" Finally, he let go, assured she would stay put, if only to keep from having him mess her hair up more.

She sighed, running a hand through her cerise locks to detangle some of the knots he had caused. "I find somewhere else to be until she's either asleep or at work." Sakura put the keys Gaara had placed on the center console into the ignition. She knew he had something else to say, but his attention was so focused on the door that it would end up being a waiting game. She searched around for her cigarettes, before he finally handed them to her, once again without looking. "Am I that predictable?"

"Duck," was her only answer as his large hand once again pushed her head down into the seat. As she allowed herself to be lowered deeper into her seat, she eyed her side-view mirror, growling. Her mother had exited the Youth Center. So that was why Gaara was forcing her into the polyester seat covers. Without further preamble, she slid herself the rest of the way into her seat, until she could just barely make out the shape of her mother sliding into her Subaru wagon.

As the headlights passed over their heads, Gaara slid back up into his seat and turned to her. "So, if you're that terrified of dealing with her, then why do you even bother going home?" He dug out his own pack and cranked his window down.

Sakura stared at his profile as streetlights and cars created shadows on his hard planes. He turned to face her and she dropped her gaze to her hands. "My dad's there." She contemplated her situation, wondering whether or not it was worth it to stay. In the end, she realized, she would always find a reason to stay until someone took her away kicking and screaming. Because, at the end of the day, she was really just a frightened girl with delusions of being more hardened than she actually was.

"So leave with him." His voice was quiet, almost hoarse. It gave her some comfort to know he was concerned enough for her that he would rescue her from her dragon of a mother. That he would suggest she leave her family house, father in tow, told her he was worried about her wellbeing.

"It's not that simple."

Gaara sighed and ran a hand through his already messy hair. "It is that simple. People make it difficult."

"No, he- he doesn't make enough money, and my mom would constantly have the cops searching my car and whatever for drugs. I know she knows I deal. I'm not stupid. She just tolerates it because I pay for my own shit and she doesn't have to." Sakura shook her head, starting her car. She paused while putting her seatbelt on. "He's a good guy. He's had his problems, and has worked to improve himself. Living with her is slowly killing him- I can see that- but… but there's nothing I can do for him right now." That said, she put the car into gear and began to pull out of the parking lot.

"Where are we going?" Gaara asked. It had just struck ten, and he was sure Kankuro would be waiting for him to return with stories about the pinkette's show. On second thought, did it really matter?

"To think," she replied simply. His breath caught as she grinned at him, patting his hand with her own petite one. "Don't worry, it's a great place. You'll see."

* * *

The lights of the city were small pinpricks of light blanketed by white snow. As Sakura's headlights passed over the snow-flecked foliage, small nocturnal animals ducked and hid; Gaara could see the green-gold of their eyes as they regarded the vehicle. She cut off her lights and put the car in park, leaving it running. Without a word, she got out and walked around to the back hatch, crawling in to lower the backseats and adjust the blankets.

"I come here to think sometimes." Really, she was saying, 'I come here to get away from my problems; this is my escape plan.' She waved him back with a cigarette already in hand.  
You can come back if you'd like." 'Keep me company.'

He twisted in his seat and crawled as gracefully as he could back to where the blankets were laid out. They lay there in silence before she moved to roll a joint and put a cd in. "Sometimes I think I'm going insane here. Like I wasn't meant to be a part of my family. I look at all the people around me, and sometimes, they just make me sick." She handed him the unlit roll, and stared at the sky out her side window.

"Sometimes I think this is all one big joke… or a test… like my mother is just going to wake up one day and be all, 'hey! Ha-ha, j/k! I actually give a shit!'" She barked a short laugh, sarcastic and cold. He didn't like it one bit. The sound alone made him sick to his stomach with how unsuitable it sounded as it bubbled out over the pinkette's lips.

He lit up and inhaled sharply, the dank scent wafting into his nose, and making his lungs ache. Gaara watched out his own side window for signs of omnipotence, but only found satellites and dying stars. "What is her deal, anyway?" he turned his face to Sakura and watched her flicker through emotions with every possible answer. He couldn't describe how beautifully tragic she looked at that moment. Her green eyes were darkened with the night, and watery with smoke and unshed pain. Occasionally, her lip and chin quivered, until she finally drew a shaky breath to answer.

"She's unhappy."

"With what?" he was aware that this line of questioning would lead down a very dark path for her, but he was driven by an insatiable need to understand this girl that lay next to him.

"With me. With my father. With life in general." Sakura's face turned toward him, and he had to remind himself to keep breathing. Her pale pink hair was obscuring one eye, and he felt that he could lay next to her in peace, so long as she kept staring at him with that look upon her face. "Nothing is what she wanted it to be. And sometimes… sometimes I feel like I'm going to end up just like her; always waiting for my something."

The silence stretched on as they finished the joint and lost themselves in their own thoughts. Gaara's mind worked through ways to evoke the gleeful smile from the roseate next to him. He found himself wondering how he could get her eyes to glitter for him as they had when she was on stage.

"OH! I love this song!" Sakura exclaimed, unexpectedly. He jumped a bit, and relaxed at the low tones of the song. She lay back down after turning up the radio, and looked back out at the sky, mouthing the words.

'_Sometimes I wanna take you down._

_Sometime I wanna get you low_

_Brush your hair back from your eyes _

_Take you down let the river flow'_

"This song is about the writer's newfound love and his addiction to opiates. He was torn between wanting to love just her, for her purity, and wanting to do the same drug with her, so she can be in his state of mind."

"Lovely," Gaara snorted. "So, he basically wants to substitute one addiction for another." He had to admit, though, the song was beautiful. If Sakura hadn't told him what it was about, and even despite the fact that she had, he found the imagery to be both sad and whimsical. It was as though the writer saw this girl as his Eve, and his addiction as his serpent, begging him to eat the forbidden fruit and gain higher knowledge.

"What's wrong with that?" Sakura's voice was quiet, insistent, and so full of insecurity, Gaara could taste it. "So… are you still mad at me?" he felt uncertain, hesitant to ask.

She chuckled, and eyed him, her eyes glittering as he had hoped they would for him. "I was never actually mad at you. I was… scared? I don't know." Sakura ran a hand through her hair and closed her eyes. "Besides, I hardly know you. It's hard to be mad at someone I don't know."

"What's there to know?" Gaara asked, propping himself up onto his elbow, facing her. The set of her face was serious, despite being under the influence. She rolled onto her side and tucked her arm under her head, eyeing him critically.

"Your last name, where you're from; you know, what's your story, morning glory?" Her eyes glittered, amused. Gaara turned his head and regarded the rear window with interest.

"Lame." He glanced at her again when she scoffed. Sighing, he attempted, "Well, uh… my last name is Sabaku, and I'm from Sunagakure. You know, Wind Country?" At her nod, he gained a little more confidence. "Well, I wasn't born there, but that's where I was raised for most of my life, by my father and his servants."

"Did your mom work a lot or something?" He could see she was trying to dull the edge of bitterness that had woven into his voice when talking of his father, but his answer only served to add a tone of sadness into the mix.

"No. She's- ah- she died while having me." Gaara's eyes slipped closed while she fumbled with apologies, stuck in the memories of having been ostracized in his family as a child. He brought death and pain wherever he went.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I-"

"You didn't know. It's okay." He jumped when her fingers wove into his own, and relaxed at the comfort she offered.

_I'll be with you girl like being low_

_Hey, hey, hey like being stoned_

_I'll be with you girl like being low_

_Hey, hey, hey like being stoned_

_Blue, blue is the sun_

_Brown, brown is the sky_

_Green, green are her eyes_

_A million miles, a million miles_

_Hey don't you wanna go down_

_Like some disgraced cosmonaut_

_A million miles below their feet_

_A million miles, a million miles_

"Please, continue." Her whispered words were like the locks on a canal, and he couldn't fight the flood of words that came forth. He told her of his father, his position as Kazekage, and his childhood.

"I used to want to be an astronaut, but when I saw the admiration Suna's people held for him, it became my goal to be the Kazekage as well."

"Why? If the position kept him away from his family, and drove him to drink, why would you want the same thing for yourself?" During the conversation, she had subconsciously scooched closer, tucking herself just under his chin. Gaara could feel the vibrations of her alto voice in his arm and chest, causing his stomach to churn with an unrecognizable feeling.

He ran his fingers lightly up and down her arm as he chose his next words. Her proximity was making it very difficult to think, much less speak. "I… felt.. I felt if I could become their leader, Suna would slowly forget the injustices and dishonor of my father. I wanted them to have a leader they can trust in with their security and wellbeing."

"And now?" she ventured carefully.

He was silent, having just realized he had been speaking in the past tense. He attempted to redirect the conversation to a lighter subject, to give himself an opportunity later to think about his future. "So… if you were never mad at me…"

"Why did I push you away?" she sighed, and ran a hand through her hair. "I… I'm sure you've noticed I have an imbalance." Well that was putting it lightly. "I'm acutely bipolar, but I have sociopathic tendencies, and combined… well, I get paranoid, and overwhelmed easily. I don't like new people coming into my life, because it's already messy enough, and I don't want more clutter to clean up. Does that make sense?" she gazed at him from beneath her lashes, and he couldn't think of anything more beautiful in that moment.

"No," he mumbled, "Not at all." He smirked to let her know he was teasing her, and brushed her hair back from her face with a gentle motion. She jerked and questioned him with her eyes.

"Don't be an asshole. And- and stop staring!" Sakura's face brightened in embarrassment, and she redirected her eyes from his, as if not making eye contact would make him stop.

"I'm not, and no." Gaara drew closer, barely nuzzling her jaw. She breathed sharply.

"Yes, you-" her words were not angry, however. He detected vulnerability, and an undertone of interest.

"Have you ever been kissed?" Gaara asked, effectively cutting off he sentence. He almost laughed when she turned to regard him again, shock evident on her heart-shaped face.

"Wh-what?! Have I- are you ins-" In the starlit darkness of her car, the radio playing softly, he let himself go completely.

"I'm going to kiss you now." His words weren't threatening or lecherous, but matter-of-fact.

And he did. And the music played on as their lips joined.

_I'll be with you girl like being low_

_Hey, hey, hey like being stoned_

_I'll be with you girl like being low_

_Hey, hey, hey like being stoned_

_I'll be with you girl like being low_

_Hey, hey, hey like being stoned_

_I'll be with you girl like being low_

_Hey, hey, hey like being stoned_

* * *

AN- OMG IT'S THE TITLE TRACK OF THIS FIC *points* Sorry for taking so long. I had originally planned all of this out, and when I had written it, the notebook was turned to the wrong page *wah wah wah*

So, thanks for waiting. Hopefully this is up to par. I have the next few chaps planned, and I know where I'm going with the story once again. I have to tell you, the past few chapters and the ending chapters will be the most serious. Otherwise, everything will be pretty light and fluffy.

And, everyone go read Maerchen's fic, because she has done a masterful job with the angst and fluff. Also, if you're into KakaSaku at all (I know I am), go read a fic by Cashmeritan titles, "Rhymes of an Hour".


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